


sweet beginnings do arise

by foxgloved



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Confessions, F/F, Feelings, Kissing, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxgloved/pseuds/foxgloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“It's always been you,” Isabelle says, in a rush of breath.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweet beginnings do arise

**Author's Note:**

> lmao what is this. title is from 'swing swing' by the all-american rejects.

“It's always been you,” Isabelle says, in a rush of breath. Clary falls silent mid-sentence, her hands stilling on Isabelle's shoulders; Isabelle tilts her head up, meets Clary's eyes with a certain kind of determination. Clary — Clary doesn't know how to feel about it, but she holds Isabelle's gaze, furrows her brows though she _knows_ what Isabelle means. “Clary — I've liked you since the moment I saw you.” Her dark eyes sparkle and she's beautiful and Clary —

Clary is silent, still, letting her hands fall off of Isabelle's shoulders. Something darts through Isabelle's eyes, something that's misinterpreting the gesture because Clary's just — at a loss for words because Isabelle is beautiful and lovely and —

“I see.” Isabelle's tone is clipped and quiet, her gaze dropping and she's the most resigned Clary has ever seen her. Clary's mouth feels as if it's sewed shut, and she strains to say something, anything, but Isabelle turns, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “Well, then — ”

“Wait,” is what Clary says, finally unhinging her jaw. Isabelle stops and turns again, searching for — something in Clary's face. “I. I like you, too.” Words have never felt more like mush, sticking gluelike to the corners of her mouth, and heat floods her cheeks under Isabelle's scrutiny. Isn't — she usually good at this? (No, she isn't, a helpful corner of her mind provides.) “Izzy — ”

“If you're just saying this to make me feel better,” Isabelle starts, and for the first time she's — self-deprecatory and Clary —

Clary kisses her.

(It's a stupid idea. She shouldn't do it, she's telling herself — _you're an idiot_ , then, as Isabelle remains harsh and still against the press of her lips.)

“I'm sorry,” she says, freezing with her lips still against Isabelle's.

Isabelle peels away, and Clary opens her eyes, looking her over — her dark hair falling across her shoulders and perfect aside from stray locks curled across her face; her eyes, open and sharp, as though she's looking at a demon for its weak spot rather than Clary. “It's fine,” she says, careful and soft. Her eyes glaze over, before she ducks her head. “I — you should just go.”

“Isabelle,” Clary whispers. It hardly comes out as more than a puff of warm air, and the heat in her cheeks rises, painting her face red, she thinks. “No — you're right. I shouldn't have done that. I'm — ”

“Don't say you're sorry,” says Isabelle, and it's a _plea_. “Please,” she adds, like it's something new in her jaw, something she's drawling out as though to test if it sounds good.

Clary stretches her hand out, tips her fingers up into the crook of Isabelle's neck. Isabelle's head lifts, hair falling back, and her eyes shine. “I really do like you, Isabelle,” she says. It's true — she _likes_ Isabelle, likes her more than any high school fling; she's found her fingers itching for a set of colored pencils to draw Isabelle more and more recently. She's sketched with the intention to draw — hell, she doesn't know, but every time her pencil forms a girl with dark hair and beautiful eyes, lips quirked into a sad smile.

(And Isabelle's smile is sad because — because why? Because her brothers, because herself, because —)

“I believe you,” Isabelle whispers.

And she closes the distance between them once more.

**Author's Note:**

> [winks](http://npdsolo.tumblr.com/)


End file.
